


(Don't have to be) beautiful but it helps

by kerithwyn



Series: Beyond the Fringe: Tales from the Kinkmeme [9]
Category: Dirty Sexy Money, Fringe
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Doppelcest, Doppelganger, M/M, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Money could freeze you in time as efficiently as Amber." Chapters 3-8 now posted, and FINISHED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's about getting out of a rut

**Author's Note:**

> AU for both universes, natch. DSM based on season 1, and the equivalent of season 1 for the Fringe Red'verse.  
> Thanks to Elf for the thumbs-up!
> 
> Written for the [Self-cest Comment-Fic Meme](http://moragmacpherson.dreamwidth.org/85726.html) (many prompts to be filled! go play!) using the following prompt:
> 
> Red'verse Lincoln Lee (Fringe)/Jeremy Darling (Dirty Sexy Money): Old boyfriends meet up again.

Even given the state of their world, some things still mattered. Money would always matter, until the end.

Most of the time, his family's wealth was completely irrelevant. Lincoln didn't bother with _stuff,_ mostly, having seen far too much _stuff_ devoured by Fringe events. But sometimes, there was a display of _stuff_ so impressive even he had to take notice.

Like this, the display at Karen Darling's sixth (and final, for real this time, everyone agreed) wedding. She was finally marrying Nick George, who she'd been in love with since she was a teenager. Nick, it seemed, had eventually come around too.

Lincoln had been invited to each wedding as a courtesy due to his father's involvement with the Darlings, a consideration based on the legal work he'd done for them over the years. It was a world Lincoln remembered from his adolescence, but never thought to reenter; Fringe Division really did take up all of his time, and that was the way he liked it. But the invitation arrived on actual paper, a ridiculous expense for a ridiculous family, and the feel of it in Lincoln's hand proved to be an irresistible enticement. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his weekend—Charlie had family obligations and Olivia was still acclimating to Fringe Division and didn't need him imposing on her free time. And unlike the other five weddings, this time he actually knew the groom.

Besides, it wasn't often he had the opportunity to take an all-expense-paid trip to Italy and stay in an honest to God mansion. The Darlings were flying all their guests in from around the world to the place where Karen and Nick had their teenaged love affair. Lincoln figured he might as well use some of his never-taken leave and go look at least a little of the world while it was still there to see.

He arrived on the day of the wedding. He'd barely stopped off at the guest villa (practically its own sovereign nation) to put on his monkey suit and begun wandering around the grounds when he heard the voice behind him.

"Hey, hey! Lincoln Lee, my real twin."

Lincoln sighed but it was impossible not to smile back at Jeremy Darling's infectiously cheerful presence. It was true, he and Jeremy looked just enough alike that people still did double-takes at him occasionally; keeping his hair short wasn't just a holdover Academy habit, it also saved him from a world of mistaken-identity trouble. A _lot_ of potential trouble, considering Jeremy's predilection for vice of any and every kind.

Juliet elbowed her twin brother in the side and grinned at him. "Lincoln, isn't this all so romantic? Nick and Karen had sex for the first time here when they were kids, and now they're getting married here, isn't that amazing? After all this time?"

"Amazing," Lincoln agreed, because it was always easier to agree with Juliet. Which was more than half the problem, but not his issue to deal with.

Jeremy poked his sister back. "Meanwhile, the eternal virgin here is saving it for her wedding night. Whenever that might be. Hey, Lincoln, you wanna take her off our hands? She's high maintenance but the compensation will make it worth your while."

Juliet shrieked and batted at Jeremy's head, trying to cover her blush and casting speculative glances at Lincoln at the same time. "Ugh, you're gross. I'm sorry he's so gross, Lincoln. Will you dance with me later at the reception?"

"It'd be my pleasure," Lincoln said because again: agreement was key. 

Juliet giggled and fussed with her dress. "I have to go help Karen get ready. She's so excited, it's adorable. See you later!"

She ran off, still laughing, exactly the same as when Lincoln had seen her last, over five years ago. Money could freeze you in time as efficiently as Amber, he thought, and barely suppressed a shudder.

"Thought she'd never leave," Jeremy said, looking at him from under lowered eyelashes and oh, Lincoln remembered that look too. "Kind of stupid, man, we both live in New York and never saw each other all this time."

"Different worlds," Lincoln managed, glancing away. Which was true enough, but—

"You remember, though," Jeremy purred, moving closer. "What it was like, with us. Like, doubles, you know, doppelganger sex. Want that again. Never had anything like that with anyone else."

Lincoln hadn't either, obviously, but it hadn't really been about a narcissistic itch, at least in his case. Mostly it had been because Jeremy was sexy and fun and completely uninhibited, and Lincoln hadn't needed any more excuse than that. Still didn't, honestly. But being involved with Jeremy Darling also meant being involved with the rest of his family, and with the whole world when the media caught up with him as they always did. Then and now, Lincoln had career plans other than being Jeremy's boytoy.

"Jeremy. This...is a bad idea," he said, although Lincoln was honestly having trouble remembering why. Jeremy always did that to him, too. "I have— you know what I do, there's barely any time for—"

Jeremy scrunched up his face at the mention of real life. "Yeah, but you're not working _now,_ " he said, as if vortexes were confined to New York and Lincoln's responsibilities didn't follow him everywhere. If the local Italian Fringe agency called an alert, he'd answer. "It's a party, man. Live a little. C'mon, come with me." He giggled. "And _come_ with me."

Now that he was this close Lincoln realized that Jeremy was completely high, judging by his blown pupils. "We can't right now. The wedding—"

"Yeah, seen it. Five times." Jeremy closed the distance between them. "Dad's drunk, mom's weepy, rest of the fam is busy fluttering all over Karen and Nick, they won't notice." He leaned close and whispered in Lincoln's ear. "It'd actually be kinda cool if you deflowered Juliet. Past time and I know you'd make it good for her. But only if I get you first. And after."

It was just preposterous enough to break the spell. Lincoln laughed and gently pushed Jeremy away, keeping his tone light. "I haven't seen all those weddings. Like you said, it's a party. I want to see it all."

Jeremy pouted at him—an honest to God pout, lower lip thrust out like a child's. But "I want" was powerful language in Jeremy's world, the only words he really understood. "Okay, fine. After, though...you promised Juliet a dance. You have to promise me a kiss, at least. To be fair."

In the end it was impossible not to agree that it was, in fact, only fair. As they walked back to the party, Lincoln caught himself watching Jeremy's ass move in his exquisitely tailored pants and knew he'd only postponed the inevitable.

The wedding was a magnificent spectacle. Karen was radiant, even on her sixth trip down the aisle; Lincoln could almost believe she really meant this to be her last attempt at happily ever after. Nick George at the altar looked more stunned than anything, and Lincoln silently wished him luck. He remembered Nick too, both of them having been caught in the Darlings' orbit by their fathers' professional connections with the family. But Richard Lee had been more determined to keep the Darlings at a distance than "Dutch" George, and Lincoln had always been grateful for that. Nick had never escaped, becoming the family lawyer after his father's death, and now his entanglement in their affairs had become even more intimate.

After the ceremony they set up a receiving line, the Darling family on glittery display. The family's patriarch Tripp Darling, already more than half drunk on his traditional Karen's-wedding-day bottle of tequila, greeted him effusively. "Lincoln, my boy! We all miss your father dreadfully." 

Only the fact that Lincoln's father had insisted on a small, family-only funeral had prevented the Darlings from descending in an extravagant display of grief; big gestures were what they did best. They'd contented themselves with massive donations to Richard's pet charities, a far better offering in the long run. "Thank you, Tripp."

At Tripp's side, his wife Leticia beamed at him warmly. "We hear you've made a name for yourself, too. You're a genuine hero!" The affection was real, Lincoln knew. It was also true that for Tish Darling, out of sight was very literally out of mind, and she'd never given him a thought in all these years. Which, frankly, had probably been the only thing keeping her from scheming to marry him off to Juliet.

Or to Jeremy. The Darlings were nothing if not equal-opportunity, as demonstrated by the next man in line. Lincoln shook hands with eldest son Patrick, now a powerful senator, who was standing with his wife Carmelita at his side. "So you're Lincoln Lee," she said, her deep voice attesting to her birth sex. "Paddy told me about you while he was working on the Amber Victims' Legal Rights bill."

Lincoln nodded and smiled and let the crowd push him along. There was a space next to Patrick, a slight gap that was probably unintentional (or knowing Tripp, perhaps not) but stood to remind everyone of the missing brother. Brian Darling had been caught in the Madison Square Garden event, his body entombed in Amber along with nearly ten thousand others. In his least compassionate moments, Lincoln thought it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Brian had been a wretched, miserable excuse for a human being, and a worse priest. Lincoln had never met anyone more unsuited for his vocation than Brian and the priesthood, and couldn't help remembering Brian's acerbic, unsympathetic commentary about Amber victims: "Anyone too stupid to get out of the way deserves what they get." His fate was a stellar example of poetic justice, and if Lincoln was inclined to believe in a deity, a just punishment from the God that Brian had so eloquently disdained with his every action.

Of course it was Brian's status that had initiated Patrick's work on the bill, at the urging of his family. All the thousands who had been lost before him and since were incidental to Tripp Darling's overwhelming determination to protect the family at all costs. But whatever the cause, the family's charitable actions on behalf of their own benefitted the people caught in their wake, and Lincoln wasn't inclined to argue over those results.

The twins were next: Juliet, giggly and unconcerned with anything but her own pleasure, unburdened by responsibilities; and Jeremy...giggly and unconcerned with anything but his own pleasure, unburdened by responsibilities. They glanced at each other and on a prearranged silent signal, both leaned forward to kiss his cheeks. "See you for that dance," Juliet whispered in his left ear, while Jeremy on his right murmured, "Can't wait to get my mouth on you again."

Lincoln barely managed to cover as he finally reached the bride and groom. Karen was euphoric, practically floating, as she greeted her guests. Of all the Darlings, she was the one Lincoln had actually seen most often, since she handled the family's charitable foundation that made regular donations toward Fringe Division's efforts to find better solutions for their world. Most of the equipment in the science labs had been purchased with Darling money. She was too exhilarated to talk and just beamed happily into his eyes as Lincoln offered his congratulations.

Nick George was still wearing a slightly dazed look, but he managed a few words, seeming pleased to see Lincoln and extending an invitation for them to catch up once things had settled down. "That'd be great," Lincoln told him, knowing it would never happen. Nick had fully entered the Darlings' circle now, and there was no room in their lives for socializing with a mere Fringe agent outside of this extraordinary event.

Lincoln nodded at the rest of the wedding party and escaped to find his table. He didn't know anyone here except the Darlings, but he hadn't really come to socialize anyway. He'd been thinking about renting a motorcycle and spending a few days driving around the countryside, maybe making his way to the old Roman landmarks that hadn't been quarantined. In the meantime there was a spectacular buffet set up, and there was no reason not to indulge.

The party really got started with a succession of toasts, eight-thousand-dollar bottles of champagne passed around like water, and there was no reason not to indulge there either. Vacation, Lincoln decided, had been a really good idea. Especially on someone else's tab.

He was eyeing the coffee decanter again—a more potent draw than the champagne for most of the guests—when Juliet appeared in front of him, looking expectant. "May I have this dance?" she asked, looking pleased at her own courtesy. 

"Of course," Lincoln said, and took her hand.

Juliet pulled him onto the dance floor, the music thumping out at a good beat, but it was a trick; the band immediately segued into a slow song and Juliet melted against him, her arms winding around his neck. "I always liked you, Lincoln," she said into his chest. "I like you better than the guys who actually want to date me. They only want our money, and that's okay, but...nobody sees me for me." Juliet was silent for a moment before she said in a long breath, "But maybe them just wanting my money is okay because I'm afraid there's nothing else for them to see."

Lincoln knew from their younger days that Juliet was prone to dramatic gestures, but that sounded alarming. "Juliet—"

She raised her head and flashed him a bright smile, cutting him off just like her brother always did. "No, I promised I'd be good today, not do anything to mess up Karen's special day." She ducked her head again, hiding her eyes. "I did think about it, y'know." Her breathy giggle made the context clear. "But you look just like Jeremy so that'd be weird, wouldn't it be weird? And Jeremy wants to sleep with you again anyway." Juliet darted a glance at his face. "Are you going to?"

The conversation was giving him too much whiplash to even try to hedge. "I— probably."

"Good. I still wish there were two of you." Juliet leaned up to kiss his mouth and dashed off, leaving him in the middle of the dance floor.

As rare and tempting as the coffee was, it definitely wasn't going to be enough to cope with all the Darlings. Lincoln made his way over to the bar and ran into Tripp, who was holding court. "Lincoln! Let me introduce you around. Captain—it's Captain now, isn't it?—Captain Lincoln Lee, of New York Fringe Division. Richard's son," Tripp said, and that seemed to be more important to his entourage than anything else. Lincoln smiled and nodded and allowed his glass to be filled up with the really good stuff Tripp was drinking, not the swill passed around to the rest of the room.

Lincoln let himself relax into the atmosphere, the conversation of the rich and richer filling the air like an affluent haze. He was just starting to think about taking a walk to clear his head when Jeremy appeared on the other side of the room and crooked a finger to summon him. A dance for Juliet, a kiss for Jeremy, Lincoln remembered through the alcohol fog, and went to meet his fate.

He was pulled out of the hall and into a room filled with armless chairs, clearly being stored there for a later event. Jeremy pushed him down into a seat and immediately crawled onto his lap, straddling him, and wound his arms around Lincoln's neck just like Juliet had on the dance floor. "Okay, now."

Lincoln laughed, unable to stop himself. "Jeremy, you're high."

"Yeah, but not _impaired._ " He wriggled on Lincoln's lap, his hard-on demonstrating the point. "Quit stalling."

It'd been five years, but kissing Jeremy again brought all those memories right back. Jeremy kissed like he lived for it, all tongue and enthusiasm, and it was impossible not to get caught up in his passion. Even if it was only for a moment, or a night.

They broke for air and Jeremy grinned at him, secure in his victory. "Stay with me at the house for a couple of days."

"My stuff's at the villa," Lincoln started to protest, lamely, not sure why he was even bothering.

Jeremy scrunched up his face. "That place is a dump. My rooms are much nicer, I can get Clark to bring your bags over. Or maybe I should just keep you naked. I like that idea." His eyes went wide. "And I can make the ceiling a mirror, you know, with a hologram, so I can see you while you're fucking me and it'll look like I'm doing myself. Soooo hot."

Lincoln wound his fingers into Jeremy's long hair and tugged gently. "You are a ridiculous human being. You know that, right?"

"Sure." Jeremy deliberately moved his head so that his hair was pulled again, harder this time. "Unf. You like me anyway."

He did, that was the kicker. "Yeah. Listen, Jeremy, be serious for a second. Your sister—"

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Juliet totally went all drama on you, didn't she. She always does when Karen gets married. Don't worry about her, she's not as innocent as she pretends. After the party she'll end up fooling around with a couple of her girlfriends, she just thinks that doesn't count."

"She— you people wouldn't know reality if it _bit_ you." And any worry or misplaced guilt he'd felt about Juliet could safely be dismissed. "But yes, I'll stay with you anyway."

"Score," Jeremy murmured, and reached up to finger Lincoln's suit collar. "Ugh, what is this, sackcloth? Is that what people wear? Let me buy you something decent."

His suit was perfectly fine, but that wasn't the point. "I thought you didn't want me wearing any clothing?" Lincoln teased.

"Not for _now,_ stupid. For, I dunno, events." Jeremy waved vaguely. He bit his lip and looked confused, and then a little bit upset. It was an unusual enough expression to really focus Lincoln's attention. "You do go out, right? Not just for— shit, Lincoln, you know why I never called _you_? Because I didn't want to find out you were dead, like, saving some orphans or puppies or something."

And that was the other reason Jeremy had been so easy to be with, and so hard to leave: his unexpected sweetness and genuine concern, surfacing at the most unpredictable times. Lincoln ran his hand over the back of Jeremy's neck, soothing. "Hey, I'm here. I'll make you a deal: we'll spend a day or two here, and then I had this idea about renting a bike...."

Lincoln watched with pleasure as Jeremy's face brightened and he started to embellish the plan, talking at his usual rapid-fire pace about buying some souped-up bikes and stopping at the family vineyards along the road. Jeremy had been right, in his strange occasional way: Lincoln wasn't working now, and most of his worries were half a world away. It was also true that he was long overdue for couple of days spent simply enjoying himself. He could afford a brief re-entanglement with the Darlings, or at least this particular one; Jeremy might be a hazard, but not actually more dangerous than Lincoln's day job.

Jeremy's world wasn't real, but it was still a hell of an entertaining place to visit.


	2. Too much of anything is never enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been writing this sentence-by-sentence for awhile. It's now clear this is the fic that crawled out of my id, cracky and wholesale. (Or in parts. It'll be seven, I think? Eight? *headbang*) Letting it into the world sans beta because no one needs to be subjected to this who doesn't want to be.
> 
> Again, the title of this part (and any subsequent) is from "Love Etc." by the Pet Shop Boys. It was written with the song on near-constant repeat. Listening while reading might help set the mood.

That was another surprising thing about Jeremy Darling: for a rich, spoiled, heedless sybarite, he could be astonishingly generous.

Not just with his money, which was easy—Jeremy bought things for other people at the slightest hint of a whim, cost literally no object. It was easy to be openhanded when the funds would never run out.

He was also generous with his time (even given he had no schedule to keep) and his attention (as long as he found someone entertaining). Most immediate to Lincoln's awareness at the moment, though, was Jeremy's generosity with his _mouth._

Once the reception wound down, they'd stumbled their way to the family wing elevator, each resident's name clearly marked on a wide button. As soon as the door closed, Jeremy crowded Lincoln against the wall and started fumbling with Lincoln's pants. "Off, off, c'mon, I wanna blow you so bad."

Lincoln was still more than half drunk, which he figured was fair because Jeremy was more than half stoned, but the idea of Tripp and Leticia stumbling in on them was enough incentive to punch the button for the right floor and grab Jeremy's hands. Even if they'd probably found Jeremy in equally compromised positions in the past. "Almost at your room. Then you can do anything you want."

Jeremy dropped his head onto Lincoln's shoulder and groaned against his neck. "I told you about the mirror, right?"

"Uh-huh." The elevator door slid open, and Lincoln had to check that they'd actually moved, the motion had been so smooth. Jeremy's rooms were just as outrageous as the rest of the mansion: at first glance Lincoln could see a fireplace and a large hot tub and an enormous bed through the open doorway on the opposite wall. Jeremy was busily sucking a hickey into the side of this throat, but Lincoln was still focused on Jeremy's demand. He nudged Jeremy's head up to steal a kiss, and finished the job Jeremy had started of undoing his pants. "But first, you said something about getting your mouth on me."

Their clothes dropped in a path from the elevator to the nearest couch, both of them laughing— _giggling_ all the way. Lincoln half-sat, half-fell into the cushions and Jeremy smirked at him. "I didn't forget."

Jeremy sank to his knees—no doubt another reason for the ridiculously plush carpet—and Lincoln let his head fall back as Jeremy's mouth went right to his cock. His arms were at his sides, but not for long before Jeremy found his hands and brought them to his head. Jeremy liked having his hair pulled, Lincoln remembered belatedly, and wound his fingers in the long strands.

The alcohol was slowing down his responses, but Jeremy didn't seem to mind taking his time. Lincoln noted dimly that there was a lot of enthusiasm and skill at work, and he'd have to remember that when he was sober. "Jeremy, darrrrrling," he drawled, because he was drunk enough that it was funny, but forgot the rest as Jeremy did something twisty with his tongue and Lincoln got attentive, fast. He tugged on Jeremy's hair gently, and less gently as Jeremy shifted slightly and then swallowed him all the way down.

If he had more leverage to thrust he'd be fucking his way down Jeremy's throat by now, but Jeremy had him pinned and Lincoln had no complaints about that, not one. His hands clenched instinctively and Jeremy let out a low sound that sounded like equal parts discomfort and arousal, but Lincoln didn't actually want to tear his hair out. He consciously relaxed his grip and just in time, because Jeremy had started to bob his head up and down. If there was a prize to be given for sucking someone's brain out through his cock, Jeremy would take top honors. A shiny trophy. A gold—

Even as fuzzy-headed as he was, the noise that tore out of Lincoln's throat as he came made him glad for the soundproofed walls.

Jeremy stood up and without ceremony, pushed Lincoln over sideways on the couch and climbed on top of him. "Gonna come all over you now, okay," he muttered, not a question, and started thrusting urgently against every part of Lincoln's skin he could reach. Lincoln reached down to give him a hand, but his fingers barely brushed over Jeremy's cock before Jeremy groaned and shuddered, erupting all over Lincoln and the couch.

Jeremy collapsed against him, careless of the sticky patches. "Toldya. So hot. We should take pictures."

Lincoln laughed, and then recalled Jeremy's fondness for gadgets. "Jeremy. _No cameras._ "

He could feel that exaggerated pout against his skin. "Not even just for me? To remember this?"

"You have pictures. From the wedding." Jeremy had commandeered the photographers—video, digital, and archaic film—to take so many shots of the two of them that Karen had sent Nick to remind them whose wedding it actually was.

"Not the same," Jeremy slurred into his chest. "Unnnh. I need a drink." He levered himself up and glanced around, spotting the crystal decanter on the table next to the couch. He poured clear liquid into a tumbler and sipped, frowning. "Water, seriously, I told them to put vodka in these."

Lincoln took the glass from Jeremy's hand and drank greedily. He wasn't likely to be hung over, but the water was a better idea anyway. He'd have to remind Jeremy about the cameras again when both of them were sober. Jeremy would sincerely swear to keep any pictures to himself, but his discretion would only last until the next time he was high and wanted to show off his "double" to his friends.

He heard a muttered "I want a rematch," but Jeremy was swaying on his feet, and Lincoln wasn't much better off.

"Tomorrow," Lincoln said, and made a heroic effort to stand.

He thought about cleaning up, but the couch had undoubtedly seen worse, and he was starting to fade fast. Somehow he maneuvered them both into the next room, closing the door and tipping them both onto that huge bed. Jeremy immediately rolled and wound himself around Lincoln, clinging like a baby monkey.

Lincoln made a last-ditch attempt to arrange them both comfortably, but his arms were turning to lead and his eyelids were following. In a little while he'd—

He never finished the thought.

***

Lincoln woke to the feel of the late morning sun, feeling rested. No wonder, considering the sheets on this bed probably cost a couple weeks' salary. He felt a warm weight against his side and glanced over. His tendency to sprawl had won against Jeremy's inclination to cling, so Jeremy had ended up curled into a ball against him. Jeremy murmured indistinctly when Lincoln brushed a hand over his head but showed no other sign of movement, so Lincoln carefully slid off the opposite side of the bed and went to investigate the rest of the rooms.

In the bathroom he found a set of neatly packaged toiletries, clearly meant for Jeremy's guests. The house staff must restock frequently, Lincoln thought with amusement.

He considered finding something to wear but decided there was probably no point, and wandered out into the living room. The door had kept him from hearing anyone moving in the next room, but the clothes he and Jeremy left on the floor had vanished, and the couch showed no signs of the damage they'd inflicted on it the night before. He'd be self-conscious about that if the staff obviously hadn't seen it all before. The sideboard had been set up too, with coffee decanters and juice and fruit—

Lincoln's eyes widened and he nearly tripped over himself to reach the platter he'd spotted. He hadn't seen strawberries in the markets for three years, and here was a serving dish overflowing with them. He piled a double handful on a small plate, poured a cup of coffee, and glanced around.

The hot tub was definitely the place for all this indulgence. There was a waterproofed screen set up next to it, and Lincoln turned it on to see a preprogrammed list of Jeremy's favorite magazines, mostly centered around fast cars, hot bands, and celebrity gossip. Lincoln did a quick check of the news outlets, just to make sure there was nothing critical happening around New York, and spent the next half hour amusing himself by looking through the coverage of Karen's wedding. The pictures of him and Jeremy were online already, although the Darlings' publicist team had thankfully kept the ones with Jeremy's hand on his ass off the feeds.

He really was on vacation to have forgotten. Lincoln belatedly checked his mail and heard a couple of excited messages from Charlie and Liv. He left them the same voicemail: "Having a great time, wish you were here," just to irritate them both. He'd pay for that when he got back.

Lincoln heard sounds from the bathroom and then Jeremy wandered out, also naked. "Heyyy. Oooh, strawberries." He leaned down to steal a berry and a kiss. "But you forgot the best part."

He drifted over to the board and poured himself a mimosa, gathering up a few plates as well. On his way back, he put the glass and two bowls gently at the side of the tub and then jumped in, spraying water everywhere in spite of his careful management of the plates. Jeremy grinned at Lincoln's sputtering. "See, here." He rolled a strawberry around the sugar bowl and swiped it through the mound of cream, then held it out. Lincoln leaned forward and bit into it, then licked at Jeremy's fingers for the rest.

"Delicious."

"I know, right?" Jeremy said, staring at Lincoln's mouth. He fumbled for another strawberry and popped it in his mouth, leaving a smear of cream on his lip.

Deliberate enticement or otherwise, Lincoln didn't much care. He slid forward to swipe at it with his tongue, then took a mouthful of Jeremy's drink and kissed him. Jeremy moaned into his mouth, licking away the taste of strawberry and champagne and orange juice. "mmmm. It's tomorrow. I mean, today."

"Oh, did we have plans?" Lincoln asked, trying for innocence, although the effect was probably ruined by his hard-on bumping against Jeremy's hip.

"I have plans for this," Jeremy grinned, reaching down to stroke him. "And you can't leave until I get what I want."

"You gonna tie me to the bed?"

Jeremy giggled. "That's [usually my gig](http://kerithwyn.tumblr.com/post/23100504474/exactly-the-moment-you-think-it-is). But hey, I'm flexible."

Impossible to tell which of them was more turned on by the idea. Lincoln kissed him again, eager to move this along. "Bed. Now."

They hauled themselves out and dried off briefly from the mountain of towels piled next to the tub. Lincoln had noticed before, but for a guy with no job and no obligation to stay fit, Jeremy was in damn good shape. Too vain to look anything but his best, maybe, like the rest of the Darlings.

They hit the bed together, the impact bouncing the headboard against the wall. Lincoln hadn't really had the chance to get his hands all over Jeremy the day before and he made up for it now, relearning Jeremy's skin. Jeremy was pliant under him, squirming like an eel when Lincoln hit one of his many ticklish spots. Jeremy returned the favor, brazen fingers pushing into Lincoln's mouth, stroking over his ass.

They'd been careless last night, but fortunately for them both, no condoms were necessary. The top of the line bio-scanners at Fringe Division and those around the Darlings' residences made sure their charges were in peak physical condition, and any hazards or discrepancies would have been noted and discreetly addressed.

Lincoln started to work his way down Jeremy's body, enjoying the way Jeremy responded to him with profuse verbal encouragement. Sex with Jeremy had always been fun, enthusiastic and joyful and free of complications. Given the realities of Lincoln's life, it was probably even therapeutic to take pleasure in that simplicity for awhile.

Or he could stop over thinking things and apply himself to the job at hand. Lincoln got comfortable between Jeremy's legs, but after a few moments Jeremy stopped him with a tug on his hair. They differed on that, among other things; Lincoln didn't actually enjoy having his hair grabbed, unlike his "double," and he pulled away. Jeremy looked down his body at Lincoln, eyes full of wanting. "Don't— I mean, I want you to, but I want to come while you're fucking me, okay?"

"Since you asked so nicely," Lincoln said dryly, and Jeremy rolled to grab something from his bedside table. He tossed a tube of slick in Lincoln's direction and then started playing with a remote.

"Almost forgot. See?"

Lincoln looked up to see that the ceiling had turned into a mirror reflecting the two of them. "Okay, Mr. Director, where do you want me?"

Jeremy's eyes widened and he licked his lips. "Can't believe you won't let me record this, Jesus. Uh, so I can see the mirror."

That limited the possibilities. Lincoln stroked himself and started to reach for Jeremy, then reconsidered, tossing back the tube. "Open yourself up for me."

Jeremy grinned and slicked his own fingers, then shoved them up his ass so fast that Lincoln winced with sympathetic discomfort. But Jeremy didn't seem distressed in the least—entirely the opposite, as his hips jerked forward and he pinched a nipple with his other hand. "C'mon, man," he panted, "not a spectator sport."

"Let's try this." Lincoln moved around the bed, putting his back against the headboard. Jeremy immediately got the idea and crawled forward, turning around to seat himself on Lincoln's cock with a slow, smooth slide downward. Lincoln held his breath, letting Jeremy set the pace, and reached to wrap his arms around Jeremy's chest once he was firmly settled.

Maybe not the best position, but there were compensations. Lincoln lifted Jeremy's chin toward the mirror. "See?"

"Holy _fuck,_ " Jeremy moaned, and ground down on Lincoln's lap.

Lincoln looked too, really looked, and—yeah. "Good idea," he murmured in Jeremy's ear, and then bit lightly on his earlobe. Jeremy's frantically writhing response was immediate, and Lincoln couldn't be sure it wasn't in response to his words as much as the bite. Or his cock up Jeremy's ass, for that matter.

He couldn't really thrust from this position, but it didn't matter—Jeremy was energetic enough to provide friction for both of them. The mirror had been an inspired idea, but once they really got going neither of them was looking at it anyway. Jeremy was clutching at his thighs and moaning that he wanted it harder and Lincoln took him at his word, gathering his strength and tipping them both forward so he landed sprawled across Jeremy's back. Jeremy got his hands and knees under him and Lincoln drove into him, almost heedless of any pleasure but his own.

Jeremy didn't seem to care, shoving himself back with abandon. He threw his head back, shouting as he came, and the feel of his orgasm set Lincoln off as well. He collapsed across Jeremy's body as they both fell into the plush sheets, and it took a good couple of minutes before either of them could move. Jeremy finally reached over for a washcloth and gave them both a desultory swipe before curling into a contented ball, asleep within seconds.

Lincoln felt himself starting to drift off as well and went with it.

***

Lincoln woke first again, ravenous. Jeremy was snoring slightly with his mouth open, but Lincoln figured he could always catch up on sleep later. He poked Jeremy in the side, then tickled him.

He came awake squirming. "Oh, hey, stop, cheating!" Jeremy shrieked, and reached behind him to hit Lincoln with a pillow.

Lincoln stared at him. "You did not just."

Jeremy grabbed for another pillow, grinning. "Wanna make something of it?"

"I am not having a pillow fight like a fourteen-year-old girl," Lincoln told him firmly, and got a good grip on his own pillow before he hit Jeremy in the face with it. "I'm _trained_ for these things."

Jeremy screeched and launched himself bodily at Lincoln, all flailing arms and legs. "I'll show you 'trained,' you—" and the rest was lost as they both broke up laughing. They rolled over each other and Jeremy wound up on top. "Does this mean I win?"

"Sure," Lincoln said, magnanimous.

"I told you it'd be good with the mirror. Better than good." Jeremy leaned down, licking his way into Lincoln's mouth.

Lincoln pulled back for a breath when the kissing started to get serious. "I need to eat something." He poked Jeremy in the side again in response to his grin. "Besides you."

Jeremy pouted, then nodded. "'kay. Order whatever you want. Something for me too, I'll be right out."

Lincoln left the bedroom as Jeremy reached for a small box on the table. It wasn't his job to confront Jeremy about his drug use, same as it hadn't been his responsibility five years earlier. Besides, with the new additives that circumvented the worst of the long-term effects, there almost wasn't any reason for Jeremy to stop. Illegality wasn't a serious concern for a Darling.

In the living room he picked up the old-fashioned phone, a direct line to the staff. "This is, uh, Jeremy's suite."

"Yes, sir?" The voice on the other end was carefully correct, but Lincoln could hear his amusement anyway.

"Would you send up a—" he glanced at the clock, "—late lunch, I guess. Jeremy's favorites, for two." He hesitated, then decided it really was a vacation and he could indulge himself on the Darlings' dime. "If you have any avocados, I'd love one too. And tomatoes."

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"That's great. Thank you," he said, sincerely. "No, wait, I'm sorry. More strawberries?"

"Certainly, sir. Lunch will be up shortly," the voice said, definitely amused now.

"Shortly" meant he had a few minutes, and rinsing off before the food arrived would definitely be a good idea. Back in the bedroom Lincoln found Jeremy was sprawled on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and surfing through his magazines. "Gonna grab a quick shower," he said, and Jeremy nodded dreamily.

The shower was just as elaborately appointed as the rest of the apartment, and Lincoln made a mental note to take further advantage of it later. He heard Jeremy moving around outside, the sound more of a relief than it should have been. Whatever drug Jeremy took, it hadn't been potent enough to make him neglect basic needs.

Lincoln stepped out of the shower and straight into a towel that Jeremy was holding for him. "Thanks," he said, surprised. He returned the favor after Jeremy rinsed off. It felt sort of like he should say something, but he wasn't sure—

The door chime and the sound of Lincoln's stomach actively gurgling in response intervened. "Food!" he and Jeremy said together, grinning at each other. Jeremy was still adamant about the no-clothing rule, so they hung out in the bedroom and sprinted out into the living room as soon as they heard the elevator depart.

The sideboard had been efficiently cleared of the morning's offerings and replaced with lunch fixings. Jeremy's favorite turned out to be a steak. Not just any steak, of course, but prime dry-aged beef, seared to a perfect medium rare in a restaurant-quality oven. It was accompanied by a monstrous bowl of macaroni and cheese, so loaded with butter and cheese Lincoln felt his arteries start to harden at the sight.

To Lincoln's delight he also found a straightforward "salad": avocado, tomatoes, and cucumbers, lightly dressed with lime juice and olive oil. He dove into that first, actually moaning at the taste.

Jeremy eyed him. "What? It's just food."

"It's not just—" Lincoln stopped himself before he snapped. "I haven't had an avocado in a long time, that's all."

"Oh." Jeremy leaned over to spear a piece of avocado with his fork and tasted it. "It's okay, I guess."

"If you're not going to appreciate it, you can't have any more," Lincoln informed him, commandeering the bowl. He made a considerable dent, but it was too rich to eat that much. He got up to put the rest of the bowl in the mini-fridge in the otherwise-unused kitchenette, ignoring Jeremy's amused expression. The remainder wouldn't last long, but it was too good to waste. He turned his attention to the steak, had a couple of mouthfuls of that decadent pasta, and called it good.

There were also more strawberries, this time sitting alongside a pot of melted chocolate. "Oh, _that's_ gonna come in handy," Jeremy said, smirking.

They finished eating, Lincoln feeling pleasantly full and more relaxed than he'd been in...months. "After a meal like that, I'd say let's go for a walk, but that means clothes." Lincoln looked around pointedly. "Can't help but notice you never sent for my bag."

"Naked time is the best time," Jeremy retorted. "Tomorrow, okay? Just...be with me today."

"I'm not going anywhere," Lincoln said softly.

Jeremy paused, looking almost baffled by Lincoln's agreement, and then he shook his head. "That's cool, 'cause right now, I'm gonna beat your ass at Grand Theft Auto Eleven. I got an advance copy," he smirked. "And later, we're gonna warm up that chocolate and I'm gonna paint you with it. And then lick it off. Sound like a plan?"

"Best vacation _ever,_ " Lincoln told him sincerely, cracking his knuckles. "Load up the game. And let's make it interesting: Whoever gets spanked in the game...gets spanked after."

Jeremy grinned. "Not much of a game if we're both trying to lose."

"Point," Lincoln admitted. "Winner gets a blowjob?"

"My favorite kind of game. Everybody wins," Jeremy said happily, and tossed Lincoln a set of VR glasses.

Turned out it was difficult to concentrate on the game with a hard-on, but Jeremy had the same difficulty, so it ended up being more-or-less even. Jeremy had more experience with the game, but Lincoln had better hand-eye coordination.

Jeremy was absolutely right, though, about both of them winning.


	3. Too much of everything is never enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I tried to go to fade out. They wouldn't let me.

"I win!" Jeremy shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "Maximum domination!"

"Guess that means I lose," Lincoln said, unable to keep the smirk out of his voice.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You didn't lose on purpose, did you?"

Lincoln had considered it, but got caught up in the game enough to briefly forget about the stakes. "Hell no. I know what your mouth can do, remember?"

Jeremy smirked, then threw himself back on the couch, cock bobbing in the air. "My prize, please."

"No such thing as delayed gratification in your world," Lincoln muttered, but Jeremy's eagerness was sort of cute, too. "Do _not_ pull my hair," he said sternly, and bent to his mission.

Lincoln couldn't claim Jeremy's level of expertise, but he could make up for it with determination and a genuine desire to please. He took it slow, licking at Jeremy until Jeremy was moaning, his hips thrusting into the air. Lincoln pulled back to take in the picture and ran an admiring finger up the length of Jeremy's cock. Pretty, like the rest of him.

"Linnncooooooln," Jeremy whined. His hands were repeatedly opening and closing against the couch, thwarted of their desire to wind in Lincoln's hair. Lincoln was a little surprised Jeremy had resisted the impulse.

That kind of restraint deserved a reward. Lincoln grinned and leaned in again, sliding his hands under Jeremy's ass. He lowered his mouth over the head of Jeremy's cock, sucking gently until Jeremy shoved his whole body forward and up at the same time, trying to capture more of Lincoln's mouth. 

"Greedy," he murmured against Jeremy's skin, liking the way Jeremy trembled at the feel of his breath. But he had earned his prize. Lincoln leaned in again, sucking and licking without relenting.

It wasn't long before Jeremy shouted and bucked up, but Lincoln had anticipated the movement and pulled back enough so he wouldn't choke. Jeremy started giggling and Lincoln laughed too, appreciating the absurdity of the moment. Of the whole situation, really. 

"Now I get to punish the loser, huh? On the bed. Hands and knees," Jeremy said, suddenly demanding, and Lincoln felt a shiver run through him. The best kind, the anticipatory kind.

He hurried into the bedroom and arranged himself like Jeremy wanted, breathing deeply, already craving contact.

"Damn. So pretty." Jeremy climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to Lincoln. "Say when, okay?"

"Yeah—" Lincoln started to say, and gasped as Jeremy's hand came down in a hard smack, much firmer than he'd expected. And perfect. "A- again."

Jeremy snickered and complied, and Lincoln felt his ass start to tingle under the blows. He dropped down from palms to elbows, raising his butt further in the air, resting his forehead against the bed.

There was no particular rhythm to the strikes and that only made it better, impossible to anticipate. Lincoln's hands were twisting in the sheets, his breath coming in harsh gasps. His ass was throbbing now, stinging with every smack.

"Hey, I just remembered," Jeremy said, sounding out of breath. "We were gonna start that bike trip tomorrow. Kinda difficult if you can't sit down." His hand came down for the hardest slap yet, seeming to belie his words, and then he said, "Guess I should kiss it better."

There was no restraining the moan that ripped out of Lincoln's throat when Jeremy's lips shaped a kiss against the sorest spot. His skin was outrageously sensitive to even the lightest touch, and he felt Jeremy smile against him. "Y'know, people tell me all the time to kiss their ass. Not usually tempted, though. But you...." 

Whatever kind of exception he was, Lincoln was grateful for it. Jeremy's mouth was gentle on him, trailing over tender skin, his tongue darting out. And then his hands spread Lincoln's ass cheeks so that Lincoln was completely exposed, his face still buried in the sheet. "Yeah, you want this," Jeremy whispered, and licked a broad stripe against Lincoln's entrance.

Squeaking was an inappropriate sound for a Fringe Division team leader and Lincoln would deny the sound anywhere outside of this apartment. Jeremy just giggled and seemed intent on wringing as many embarrassing noises out of Lincoln as he could manage. "Wow," Jeremy murmured, his breath ghosting over Lincoln's ass. "What'd you say before, about what my mouth can do? Maybe this is what you really had in mind."

He was _not_ going to beg. But Lincoln did let his knees slide farther apart in obvious invitation, and Jeremy giggled again. 

He felt the tip of Jeremy's finger circling, spiraling inward. "Can I?" Jeremy asked, his voice sounding dreamy. "You'll let me fuck you?"

As if Lincoln was in any condition to refuse, at this point. "Yes, God, whatever you want."

"Or maybe I'll see if I can get you off with just my tongue this time." Jeremy licked at him again, his tongue flickering with maddening randomness. "Oh! Wait, I forgot. Don't move."

And he— he got _up,_ to Lincoln's dismay, and left the room. Lincoln growled into the sheet but kept his head down and his ass up; if nothing else, Jeremy had an inventive streak would that make the interruption worthwhile. When he dimly heard the kitchenette microwave hum, Lincoln grinned to himself—Jeremy had remembered his earlier promise.

The distinctive aroma grew stronger when Jeremy reentered the room. "Not that you don't taste great already, but—"

Whatever Jeremy had been about to say was subsumed by his muttered curse. He scrambled back onto the bed, pushing the blanket and pillows off the sides. "Don't move."

A moment later, Lincoln felt Jeremy's fingers trail a line down his spine...sticky fingers, redolent with warm chocolate. "You're, like, the best canvas ever. Edible, too." Jeremy leaned over and licked a spot where his fingers had been.

" _Jeremy,_ " Lincoln finally said, the name emerging with more of a whimper than he'd intended, but the circumstances were dire. "Gonna leave me hanging here?"

"You said, whatever I want." Jeremy drizzled more chocolate down his back and Lincoln felt it begin a slow crawl back up his spine, following the direction of gravity. 

Jeremy caught the flow with his fingers, directing it down...and down, into the crack of Lincoln's ass, then dripping farther onto his balls. At least it wasn't warm enough to burn, Lincoln thought with resignation. Then he gasped, biting at the sheet, as Jeremy's mouth returned to clean up the mess.

He was both thorough and resolute in his attempt to gather up every last drop and smear with his tongue. Lincoln was trembling, the only sound coming out of his mouth a high-pitched whine by the time Jeremy brought his fingers into play on Lincoln's cock.

He came with a low shout, collapsing onto the sheets heedless of the wet spot. It took him a second to realize that Jeremy had moved up and was humping his ass, sliding into position—

Lincoln had just enough presence of mind to point vaguely toward the nightstand. "Chocolate is not lube!"

Jeremy snickered, rolling to grab for the tube of slick. Lincoln was happy to lay there, blissed out as Jeremy got himself ready and back into position. He rallied enough to push back as Jeremy slid home, thoroughly content to let Jeremy use his body. And if he couldn't rise to the occasion, he could still appreciate Jeremy's enthusiasm as he finished, and the contented noises he made after he rolled away. 

Part of him wanted to just drift off to sleep, but the rest of him was _sticky._ Lincoln made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as he could move again. He was still washing bits of chocolate out of his...everywhere...when Jeremy climbed into the shower with him. 

"Let me help, okay?" Jeremy's hands were gentle on him, washing him clean. Lincoln hissed a little—mostly for effect—as Jeremy's fingers stroked over his stinging ass. Jeremy glanced at him, sudden concern on his face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Nope. But I'll definitely remember that."

Jeremy's face split into a grin. "Awesome."

They dried off and Jeremy handed Lincoln a robe, the first clothing he'd seen in a day. "One more thing." Jeremy took his hand and led him outside to the balcony, where a bottle of champagne was chilling in a marble bucket. "Okay, maybe a little cliché, but I thought maybe...?"

Jeremy trailed off, looking a little lost, and Lincoln couldn't help but smile. "To toast a great day. Excellent idea."

Jeremy smiled at him uncertainly, and then more broadly when he saw Lincoln was absolutely serious. "I'm glad. I— I know you don't get a lot of time away, I wanted this to be nice."

He really was being a lot more thoughtful than Lincoln ever could have anticipated. He leaned over and kissed the corner of Jeremy's mouth. "You've helped remind me what a vacation is for."

Jeremy beamed, reaching for the bottle. "I have another surprise for you in the morning."

He looked so pleased with himself that Lincoln didn't want to ruin the mood by confessing he'd seen the delivery truck unloading two shiny new motorcycles. Instead Lincoln sat and watched the sunset, not letting his thoughts drift anywhere past the taste of the champagne and anticipation of the leftover avocado salad he'd finish off in a little while. He was still pleasantly achy from the sex and absurdly happy at the thought of more sleep in that ridiculously comfortable bed, without being on call or having to wake in the morning to some new disaster. "I really did need this," he said aloud, and was warmed by the sweetness of Jeremy's answering smile.


	4. (Don't have to drive) a super car to get far

Lincoln eventually got his clothes back, even if Jeremy made faces at what he'd packed. "What are these rags, ugh. At least take a decent shirt out of my closet."

Jeremy suggested that they sit down for brunch with the family before they took off, and Lincoln could hardly refuse. Karen and Nick were already off on their honeymoon, jet-setting around the world. Lincoln had always thought of Karen as one of the more capable members of the family, intelligent and clear-headed except where her heart was concerned. With Patrick enmeshed in politics, Brian gone, and the twins...distractible, Karen was the obvious heir to the Darling holdings, especially now that she'd finally achieved her heart's desire and could focus on other things.

Tripp and Leticia fussed over him, seeming pleased to see him with Jeremy. Tish's attention confirmed Lincoln's suspicions that if she'd given him any consideration over the years, Jeremy's mother would have tried to marry them off. At least Tripp was perfectly aware of Lincoln's job and its hazards, and Lincoln hoped he'd head Tish off if she started thinking in that direction.

Patrick was taciturn as usual, letting Carmelita talk for him. She was smart and politically savvy and a good match for Patrick, who never had an idea that his family hadn't put in his head.

Juliet kept eyeing him over her coffee cup and casting jealous glances in Jeremy's direction. Lincoln thought it was probably a good idea to leave before she changed her mind about him looking too much like her brother.

And Jeremy...was Jeremy, making obscene faces at him over the croissants and trying to wiggle his foot into Lincoln's crotch under the table. Lincoln finally resorted to catching Jeremy's foot under his own, pinning those errant toes between his heels. 

Brunch concluded with the Darling family farewells. Perhaps incautiously, Lincoln had left their bike trip arrangements entirely in Jeremy's hands—which meant, realistically, in the hands of Clark or one of the other trusted household servants. Lincoln could reasonably assume they'd taken care of what needed to be done with their usual attention to detail.

The brand-new, top of the line motorcycles were waiting, customized to their measurements. Lincoln had been a little concerned about Jeremy's ability to concentrate on the road, but Jeremy was an expert driver when he cared to be.

They spent the next three days traveling all over Italy, stopping as whim struck to check out a village bistro, or to climb over an old ruin, or to park off the side of the road and have sex on whatever flat surface happened to be available. Or not so flat, Lincoln thought ruefully, considering their last stop. He'd be picking small stones out of his back for a week.

The time passed in a blur until it was the last night before he had to fly back. Jeremy tried to wheedle him into staying longer but Lincoln firmly cut him off, distracting them both with several last rounds of the fantastic sex he already knew he'd miss.

In the morning another surprise was waiting at the airport: Jeremy insisted on putting him on a private jet.

Lincoln also hadn't expected Jeremy to ask, "I'll be back in New York in a couple of weeks, can I see you then?"

Jeremy Darling didn't make _plans,_ certainly not weeks in advance. Lincoln realized he was frowning. "Jeremy—"

"No, never mind, I know, you have work. Important stuff. I won't bug you." Jeremy shrugged, looking sheepish. "Just, uh, if you get bored. Or something. I'm around."

Maybe he should have taken the gesture more seriously, but Lincoln figured that once he'd left Jeremy would go back to his usual habits, call up a couple of Italian models and get his debauchery on. He'd been relatively restrained the last few days, the drugs barely in evidence and the drinking limited to wine with dinner. Jeremy had clearly been making an effort and Lincoln appreciated it, but once he was out of sight it was unrealistic to expect that moderation to last.

"Thank you," he said, with all the sincerity he could muster. "This has been great. Just what I needed. But when I get back...."

"Yeah, okay," Jeremy said, an expression on his face Lincoln's couldn't decipher. "It's serious time. Just...don't die, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Lincoln said, the only promise he could make. "Take care of yourself, Jeremy."

He headed toward the plane, duffle bag in hand, resolutely not looking back.


	5. A big blank check to be a lover

Lincoln's first day back to work was thankfully Fringe-event free, which turned out to be a mixed blessing. Without a crisis to distract them, Liv and Charlie (and half the resident division) were free to pester him for all the details of his assignation with the famously debauched Darling son. Lincoln told them just enough to really pique their curiosity. 

"But _Jeremy Darling!_ " Liv kept saying. "If you wanted to, you could be his kept man! You could get away from all this!"

She was joking, of course, and they both knew it. No one became a Fringe agent unless they needed to for one personal reason or another. 

"Could've at least brought us souvenirs," Charlie grumbled.

"Oh, I did. Just not here."

"Ooh. Contraband?" Liv's eyes were sparkling. 

Lincoln grinned. "At my place. Come by after work and see."

When Liv and Charlie showed up Lincoln handed over carefully wrapped packages of coffee beans, a gift from the Darlings to all their guests. Jeremy had given him a few extra bags. He'd also offered to set Lincoln up with a steady supply, a generous proposal Lincoln had a hard time turning down. He'd finally said no, saying he'd feel guilty about flaunting the extravagance, which was easier than telling Jeremy he didn't want to feel indebted to someone he might not see again. Jeremy clearly hadn't understood the objection, but shrugged and told Lincoln it was his loss.

True enough, especially on cold mornings when tea—no matter how strongly brewed—really didn't do the trick of waking him up.

Days went by. Lincoln got back into the swing of things, not thinking about the lack of strawberries in his life at all. Or not much. 

He should have known he couldn't escape Jeremy Darling's orbit without some residual afterburn. 

He'd just settled into reviewing the morning reports when Liv flagged him down, grinning. "There's a delivery for you. Out front," she said, her eyes lit with mischief. 

He walked outside to a small commotion. Lincoln pushed through the crowd to see the source: a bike, the bike he'd driven in Italy, shined and polished and delivered with a giant silver bow. But that wasn't the worst of it.

Jeremy not-so-darling, he thought, feeling his face flame up as his fellow agents pointed and sniggered. And the thing was, he couldn't call and protest; Jeremy would never understand that this was Lincoln's _workplace_ and big, shiny gifts were inappropriate. Especially gifts that bore a tag in the shape of a big red heart that read, "From JD to LL."

"Wow," Charlie said at his side, his tone both envious and admiring. Lincoln had been so distracted he hadn't even seen Charlie approach. "Hell, _I'd_ sleep with him for one of those."

"He's all yours," Lincoln retorted, stepping forward to thumbprint the delivery guy's datapad. Inappropriate or not, it was still an awesome bike, and refusing the gift would just relegate it to a warehouse somewhere to sit unused.

"Well, that's quite a sight," a dry voice came from behind him, and this day was just getting better and better. Lincoln turned to see Colonel Broyles, who'd left his office to see what was distracting his staff. "If you'd care to get back to work...."

"Yessir. Just gonna, uh, park this somewhere."

"The gold-plated parking stalls are all occupied," Broyles said, not bothering to restrain his smirk. He clearly had a follow-up, but Lincoln was pretty sure it was nothing he wanted to hear. He stripped off the ribbon and the tag, swung onto the bike, started it up with a touch to the DNA scanner, and revved the engine. Broyles waved to the crowd, shooing them back to work, and shot Lincoln a final look that he didn't need words to translate. 

Lincoln got the bike stowed with a last admiring pat—it really was a great machine, no matter how much embarrassment it cost. When he got back up to the command center the novelty seemed to have worn off, and he was able to get back to work without more comment from his coworkers than a few amused looks.

Except for Liv, of course, who had to have the last word. "Wow, Lincoln," she said, "you must be _really good._ "

There was joking, and then there was courting an actual harassment suit, and every response that sprang to mind definitely fell into the latter category. Liv seemed to realize that she'd crossed the line too, and immediately held up her hands. "Sorry, sorry. Out of line."

Lincoln nodded and smiled to show he wasn't offended and turned back to his monitor. There was no explaining that the gift wasn't anything to Jeremy; certainly not the cost of the bike and most likely the gesture itself, designed for Jeremy's own amusement. 

Still, it would just be rude not to thank him for the gift, regardless of its circumstances. His call went to voicemail, which was just as well, and Jeremy didn't call him back.

That was probably just as well, too.


	6. It's tough getting on in the world

Two weeks later, Lincoln nearly died.

His team had been working the evacuation of a class 4 vortex, which suddenly expanded at a rate past any of the lookers' projections. That happened sometimes, and there was no counter for it except to pray you weren't in its path. This time, Lincoln had been.

Lincoln was on the verge of blacking out, opposing forces tearing at him, when he felt a hand grab his belt and pull. He'd been hauled out, coughing and puking and half-dead, only realizing that his rescuer was Liv when they both collapsed on the ground just inside the safe perimeter. 

At the celebration afterward he tried to kiss her, half out of gratitude, half— well, because Olivia Dunham was an amazing woman, completely aside from how she'd saved his life. Liv allowed the kiss for a moment, then pulled away with a smile just short of pitying. "I have a boyfriend."

"Oh, shit." Lincoln took a long pull of his beer, fighting embarrassment and disappointment. "Sorry, Liv. Won't happen again."

"No harm, no foul," she said easily, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Make it up to me, let me whip you at darts."

She did, and Lincoln told himself very sternly that could never happen again, ever, he was supposed to be her team leader, for God's sake, and he had no business trying to hook up with his partner anyway.

So it was just an accident of poor timing when Jeremy showed up at Lincoln's apartment the next week, upset and agitated. Lincoln had barely opened the door before Jeremy barreled through, waving his hands and talking at a rapid pace.

"There was this girl, I thought she really liked me, I really liked her, but she was just using me to spy on my family, I should have guessed."

"Hello to you too," Lincoln said, but Jeremy was on a tear.

"It really sucks!"

He saw Jeremy pulling something out of his pocket and saw with swiftly rising annoyance that it was a vial of white powder. A joint was one thing, he wouldn't have cared about that, but there was a limit. "Not here."

"Huh?"

"You want to get high, that's your business, I never gave you any shit about it. But not in my _house._ " Lincoln's voice had risen on the last words, irritation coloring his tone. "I'm still an officer of the law, even if you don't respect that."

Jeremy looked at him, wide-eyed, and fumbled the vial back into his pocket. "I— okay, sorry, I don't have to."

"You just think you do." The anger was at least half misplaced, but Lincoln was on a roll. "Jeremy, what are you doing here? I thought you understood—"

"That I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough to talk to? Yeah. Sorry, I forgot," Jeremy spat, and stormed out as rapidly as he'd appeared.

Lincoln stared out the door after him, belated moving to close it. Yelling at Jeremy was as useless as yelling at a cat, and Lincoln felt terrible about it. He'd need to call and apologize, and make an appointment with the division shrink as well. He'd clearly been more shaken by the close call than he'd wanted to admit.


	7. You're stuck and you don't know how

Friday night and he and Charlie were at a bar, again. If the bartender didn't refuse to take their cash, someone else always stepped in to buy their drinks, and neither of them felt the slightest bit guilty about drinking for free. They rotated locations, at least, so no one went broke on their bad habits.

Usually the drinking was a precursor to a pickup—pretty young women for Charlie, pretty young anybody for Lincoln—but Lincoln wasn't feeling it. Conventional wisdom said the best way to get over a near-death experience was to celebrate life with whoever felt like reminding him he was alive, and certainly he'd had no lack of offers, but still....

Charlie knew exactly what was on his mind, of course. "Y'know, it's been weeks since you went home with someone."

Lincoln shrugged, evading his partner's eye. "Just not in the mood, that's all."

"Not in the mood,'" Charlie mimicked, mocking. "Might as well try to tell me you don't feel like breathing." He paused, then said what no one else would. "This isn't still about Liv, is it? She's pretty serious with her boyfriend, so...."

"Yeah, I know." Lincoln took a long pull on his beer. "So, nothing."

"Exactly, nothing. No point moping over that, you gotta put yourself out there." Charlie eyed him. "What about the guy who sent you the bike?"

"Jeremy? Nah. Nah, he's—" there weren't enough words to describe Jeremy. "Not the serious type."

"You ever think maybe the serious type is the _last_ thing you need?" Charlie drained his beer and stood. "Well, you enjoy your pity party there. There's a girl at the bar who's been trying to eyefuck us both all night and if you're not gonna tap that, I am." With that headed over to where an attractive blonde was, indeed, smiling at him. She glanced past Charlie's shoulder at Lincoln, saw that he hadn't gotten up, and turned her considerable charms on his partner.

Charlie was right, of course he was right, but Lincoln couldn't quite work up the enthusiasm for a hook-up, not tonight. He finished his beer and slipped out early, mired in his own thoughts.

What was so terrible about being with someone who wanted him? He'd never had trouble with that before.

But if he was being honest....

Yeah, he was overdue for a little bit of honesty. Lincoln could call someone up—say, Jeremy Darling, like Charlie had been hinting— and they'd have a good time. But....

But. Jeremy was fun and sexy and all of that good stuff, but he'd never be a _partner._ He'd never understand what Lincoln was talking about when he got home after a stressful day, even the non-classified parts Lincoln could actually tell him. The people who died during Fringe events were an abstraction to him, numbers to nod solemnly at during fundraisers and without significance otherwise. He'd never been face-to-face with a woman trapped in Amber, or a man disfigured by a vortex. He'd never seen the corpses of children laid out when all the air in their school suddenly turned toxic. 

And it was _good_ that Jeremy had never seen those things, because that's part of why Lincoln went to work every day: to keep citizens from witnessing horrors they had no way to cope with. To keep the events contained as much as possible so that people could keep living their lives. But there were reasons most of Lincoln's closest friends were fellow agents or division employees. No one else understood.

The brush with death had started Lincoln thinking about what he wanted out of life, more than just on a day-to-day basis. That was, the shrink assured him, a perfectly normal response. But the experience had left him at odds with his own inclinations, and wishing he could just forget it and move on.

That'd take time, too. 

It wasn't like he was looking to settle down, or anything like that. But maybe, sometimes, Lincoln thought it'd be nice to be in a relationship that didn't start new every night.


	8. The love that we need (love is for free)

Three months later, he received a call from an unidentified number. "Lincoln Lee?"

"Yes, who's calling?"

"Hold, please."

There was a crackle of static and then a voice in his ear, high pitched and agitated. "Lincoln? It's Juliet, Juliet Darling?"

He should have remembered: renewed association with Jeremy came with a family's worth of baggage. "I'm here, Juliet."

"Oh, good. It's just, Jeremy won't stop moping, he's being a total drag, would you at least call him? He's embarrassing me."

Which would of course have been her primary motivation, rather than whatever was bothering Jeremy. "I'm not sure I can help."

There was a brief pause. "He's moping over _you,_ dummy. Call him, okay?" There was another brief static squeal and then the line went silent.

Lincoln had already called, apologizing for his outburst at the apartment. Jeremy shrugged the incident off. "And I'm sorry for barging in on you like that," Jeremy said over the phone, sounding sheepish. "I know we're not— anyway, I promised not to bug you and I won't."

He hadn't since. Lincoln passed the whole thing off as a temporary Jeremy-type whim, but maybe it wasn't, if he was really upset, if he was really—

He got up to look at the gossip feeds, rarely accessed on his datapad. When he checked back over the past few weeks, the feeds were notable for what _wasn't_ there: the usual Jeremy Darling drunken spectacles, rumors of his hook-ups with anyone and everyone vaguely famous, appearances at show openings and movie premieres. Instead there was barely any mention of him except in passing at family events, and none of the tabloids had noticed the absence.

He made himself really think about Jeremy Darling, the way he hadn't before. Jeremy was sweet when he wanted to be. Great in bed, no question. Generous and fun and occasionally sentimental.

It was easy to be fond of him, to want him. It was even easy to feel sorry for Jeremy, so obviously lost in his own dissolution.

Was that enough?

He hadn't thought about Jeremy any more than that. Lincoln had essentially just used him for sex. Even if Jeremy was willing to be used, Lincoln still should have treated him better than that.

Loving him had never been on the radar.

But it was entirely possible that the gift of the bike had been more than just a casual gesture. Lincoln felt it owed it to them both to find out.

***

"Hey," Jeremy said quietly. He stood in the hallway, not barging forward like usual, his whole manner subdued. "I— I'm glad you called."

"Come in," Lincoln said, and stepped back. He'd always known how to handle Jeremy before, but something about his quiet semblance immediately threw Lincoln off-balance. Still, he had something to say, before anything else. "Jeremy, I'm sorry."

Jeremy glanced at him as he stepped inside, wide-eyed and startled. "F- for what?"

"For treating you like...like I did. Like we aren't friends," Lincoln said, because after all was said and done it was true. It'd been easy to pass Jeremy off as an acquaintance, a fuck buddy, but there were too many years and moments between them to dismiss. 

"We are?" Jeremy murmured, catching Lincoln's thought, and then shook his head. "You don't have anything to say sorry for. That's my job, remember? But anyway," he said before Lincoln could protest, "I've been reading up on you. You're a real hero. Captain Lee, one of the youngest team leads in Fringe Division history. And I thought you were just a science nerd." Jeremy smiled, his face wan and thinner than the last time Lincoln saw him. "I just pretended to be. Partly because of you."

Lincoln remembered the space posters in Jeremy's New York bedroom, the astronomy books, the star-patterned pj's when he deigned to wear them. "...Jeremy, did you ever go up to the moon base?" 

He'd never gone, between his work and the significant expense, but neither were an impediment to Jeremy. He thought the answer was evident in the way Jeremy bit his lip and averted his eyes, but the reply surprised him. "Yeah, I went. It was awesome, except for the part where I couldn't stop throwing up. They said something like ten percent of people have that reaction, but they don't tell you that in the brochures."

Space had been Jeremy's only real interest, as inconstant as it was—and despite his denial, not only because of Lincoln. "I'm sorry," Lincoln said softly.

Jeremy looked away. "Not like they would've let me on space station for real, anyway."

There was an awkward pause, while Lincoln tried to come up with something comforting to say and Jeremy just stood there, quiet like he'd never been. That made the next question obvious. "Jeremy, are you okay?"

"I— I don't know?" Jeremy sounded plaintive, almost pleading. "I just...haven't felt like doing much. Going out and that stuff. Juliet tried to make me take her anti-depressants but they just make me dizzy and sick. Even dad—" he let out a brief snort. "Even dad noticed."

Lincoln hated Tripp Darling, more than a little, for refusing to set any limits for Jeremy—and Juliet, by extension. He'd allowed the twins to run wild, living off the family money without limits. His own father had been difficult, but Lincoln had never doubted that all the rules and restrictions meant that he _cared._ He doubted Jeremy ever had as much certainty.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lincoln couldn't remember the last time he and Jeremy had talked about anything that wasn't sex or food or entertainment or all three at the same time. Maybe never. "Come on, come sit down."

Jeremy perched on the edge of the couch like he was afraid Lincoln would rescind his invitation at any moment. "I guess, um. I was secretly seeing someone, I thought it was serious with her, and it all fell apart. That's when I fell apart."

Lincoln felt a brief, cold-blooded wave of relief. Juliet had been mistaken and Jeremy hadn't been obsessing over him after all. Shameful to feel that way, but there it was. "Have you talked to anyone about it? Juliet or your other friends?"

"What friends? I don't have friends. My money has friends." Jeremy laughed bitterly. "My father's money buys friends. And Juliet's barely been home. She found a sweet island boy to fuck her silly and she thinks she's in love. Good for her."

"Juliet called me," Lincoln told him. "She noticed you were...down."

Jeremy blinked at him. "Oh. I guess I should stop laughing at her 'twintuition' thing. But see, she knew to call you!" Jeremy swallowed hard and glanced down, avoiding Lincoln's eyes. "It's just. You're the only one who ever treated me like I was worth anything. And I've been trying, okay? I stopped doing coke, I know you don't like that, and I'm trying to be...." Jeremy waved his hands vaguely, still staring at the ground. "More like somebody you might want. I guess that's what Nola liked, too."

Withdrawal, Lincoln thought, explained the changes in Jeremy's face. The rest of it deserved an answer too, even if he didn't know what it should be. But Jeremy had made a significant effort. "I'm proud of you. I just wish you'd done it for yourself, not for me or anyone else."

"But that's—" Jeremy stared at him. "That's exactly it. I don't do anything for myself, I don't have to. Poor little rich boy, right? But Karen runs the foundation, and Patrick's a senator, and Brian was a priest even if he was a shitty one, and even Juliet pretends she's an actress. I— I don't do anything." He took a hitching breath. "Wake up late. Catch up on the fam gossip. Hang out with whoever's around, get drunk, get laid, do it all again. While you're out saving the world. I _get_ it. I'm just a— a parasite. Not even one of the useful ones. Couldn't even park cars without crashing half of them. I'm not good at anything. For anything."

Lincoln got the distinct impression the speech had been running around in Jeremy's head for weeks, just waiting to burst out. Maybe longer than weeks, a lifetime of self-contempt lurking under the glittery surface. He pulled Jeremy down to sit next to him on the couch, and after a second's hesitation put an arm around him. "What happened, Jeremy?"

Jeremy sighed against his shoulder. "Dunno. That woman I was seeing, Nola, I guess she messed me up. She was smart, like you. I liked the idea she could like me. I always fall for people who won't love me back. Natalie and Sofia and Justin and Lisa and Nola and you. But I know I'm not a real boy." He paused, then laughed a little bitterly. "I said something to Natalie once, but it wasn't true then. It's true now. I'm real with you, more than with anybody. But even that isn't much."

"I think you're real. Just a little lost." Lincoln tightened his arm around Jeremy's shoulders. "That makes you just like the rest of us. Welcome to the human race."

Jeremy snorted a laugh, more than half a sob. "Yeah, well, it sucks."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, and then Lincoln got up to get a glass of water and a box of tissues. Jeremy took both with a nod. "Thanks. Look, I just...want to see you. More than a couple of days every five years. Especially since we could all be dead in five years." Jeremy bit his lip and asked, his voice painfully sincere, "Would you go out with me? For now, while we can?"

Lincoln owed Jeremy the truth, if not all of it. "I'm a bad bet. You know I'm going to die, right? Life expectancy for Fringe agents is five or six years."

Jeremy scrunched up his face. "Don't— don't treat me like I'm stupid, okay? I know that. I know what's happening to the world. I might pretend like I don't care, but— I'm not asking for forever. Just now."

He was winding himself up for the inevitable when Jeremy winced. "Except—I'm kind of tired of that. Stupid, right? But Lisa said that same thing when she used me to get over Nick. I just want...." He bit his lip. "I don't know what I want."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Lincoln said. He was thinking about his meetings with the counselor, and the way she'd encouraged him to consider his life from the ground up. Not a comfortable exercise, but a necessary one. 

The more he thought about that, the more clear it became what Jeremy really needed. What they both needed, maybe.

"The thing is, I really could use a friend. No, listen. You said yourself—'not good enough to talk to.' I don't want to treat you like that. And truth is, I could use someone to talk to as well."

Jeremy looked up, his eyes wide and panicked. "I can't, uh. Handle. What you do. I can't—"

"No, not that. Other stuff. There's a woman I work with. I'm...kind of in love with her." It hurt a lot to say it out loud. "She's my partner, she's got a boyfriend, nothing's gonna happen with her."

Jeremy was watching him, wide-eyed. "Dude, that sucks. I know exactly how that feels." He made an exaggerated double take. "How about that? Something in common after all."

"Yeah. Listen, Jeremy, sex with you is amazing, don't get me wrong, but maybe we could both use a friend more than—"

"More than another fuck buddy," Jeremy finished. He was quiet for a moment, and Lincoln thought it was best to let him work it through for himself. "I guess...that's a good place to start?" He smirked, a hint of the old Jeremy mischievousness shining through. "I'm still not giving up on you."

"Fair enough. But no more extravagant gifts. You don't have to buy me stuff to keep me around." Lincoln smiled. "I will take you up on the coffee, though."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Love Etc." by the Pet Shop Boys. P.S., I really want a Jeremy Darling vid to that song, brilliant and talented vidder-type people, okay?


End file.
